


Doublethink

by greyorchids



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Auror Partners, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Legilimency, Occlumency, Redeemed Ben Solo, That's Not How The Force Works
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-11-26 01:00:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18173765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyorchids/pseuds/greyorchids
Summary: I fix the collar of my robes and step into the lobby with the confidence of someone who might actually belong here. The Magical Congress of the United States of America isn’t so different from the Ministry of Magic - the flourish of the 60s shines through the black and gold aesthetic. It almost feels like home.Rey is a new Auror and skilled Legilimens who is asked to join a group of Aurors at the MACUSA to help fight the growing threat of pro-pureblood extremism.





	1. Chapter 1

“People are easiest to read when they’re hurting.”

__\- Queenie Goldstein_ _

 

* * *

 

 

I fix the collar of my robes and step into the lobby with the confidence of someone who might actually belong here. The Magical Congress of the United States of America isn’t so different from the Ministry of Magic - the flourish of the 60s shines through the black and gold aesthetic. It _almost_ feels like home.

As I head up to the meeting room, I adjust the hands on my watch - a muggle piece - correcting it to the local time in Washington. I can almost feel the weight of the non-magical item increase the higher I travel up in the MACUSA.

“Rey!” You’ve made it.” Poe falls into step, and slings an arm over my shoulders.

“Just in time for the real punishment to begin.” I answer with a smile. Poe laughs, but the humour doesn’t reach his eyes.

“You know they mean business if he’s been brought back.” Poe’s tone is quieter now, and I can see the imprint of _his_ file burned behind my eyelids.

Ben Solo, 34 years old. The MACUSA identification picture of him looked almost muggle-still. His dark hair and pale skin a vibrant contrast on paper. He attended Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry - Horned Serpent House. So he’s booksmart. An infamous American Auror who has had more than his fair share of dalliances with the dark arts. There was something distant and veiled about his picture paper clipped in place. I could almost feel his magic through the heavy lidded eyes in his image.

“I still don’t know why they’d ask me to come back - so soon, I mean.” I spare a glance in Poe’s direction.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Rey. A Legilimens like you is a rare find, they’d be crazy not to.” I nod slightly. Promoting good American/British relations never hurt anyone, either.  

“I thought that was _his_ claim to fame?” I mumble under my breath.

“I think even Solo would be the first to admit his skill set lies in Occlumency. The guy’s a black hole, sure. But is he the best listener?” Poe lets his silence answer his own question and I feel myself smile.

As someone who has been called many, _many_ things, being referred to as a “listener” makes it sound like a compliment. Poe certainly means it to.

He slows his gait, and I look ahead at the large carved doors. As he approaches, the wood swirls and moves into an elaborate archway. We step inside and the door phases back behind us as we we move past the desks that line the entrance room. They are empty, and the walls are stacked from floor to ceiling with books. A small woman slides down the wall on a ladder and Poe calls out to her.

“Morning, Maz! Maz, this is Rey, Rey, meet Maz.”

“Dameron.” She nods in acknowledgment. After a beat her large eyes flick up towards me and she smiles. I smile back.

“Where are they?” Poe asks without stopping.

“The Blue Room.” She replies with a wave of her wrist and a slew of books re-shelve themselves above her head.

Poe takes off to the left, and I move quickly to keep up. A folded envelope flies overhead and I duck to avoid coming head-first with it. Tentatively, I reach out. Not a lot. Just enough to see the wheels turning in Poe’s head. The feeling of excitement and expectation blooms beneath his line of thought, and I withdraw.

He doesn’t seem to notice me poking around.

I don’t often need to make eye contact with a person in order to read them, but sometimes it helps. So does physical contact if the person is especially skilled in Occlumency. The fact that I don’t have to _obviously_ focus on a person to read them makes most people uncomfortable at best. It has also made making friends a particular challenge.

As we approach the room, I feel the nerves rise in my chest. Defensively, I feel myself cast a net out around me, gathering the temperament and mood of the Aurors who await ahead. It’s a mixed bag to say the least.

Stepping into the large space, I can feel the air shift. There is a dark blur in place of a person, and I zero in on it instantly. It feels alive with magic, and although silent, it is so loud I can barely think straight.

Ben Solo.

His features are _far_ more arresting in person than the identification image suggested, and I stop myself from doing a double take. The other Aurors glance in our direction, and I hear their voices in tandem, some louder than others.

_“Are they actually recruiting from daycare these days?”_

_“She’s prettier than I expected.”_

_“Isn’t she the no-maj orphan?”_

I try not to invest in the thoughts swirling through me. What is important is that no one means me _harm_ , I don’t care if they _like_ me. Finn smiles and waves from across the table and I wave back. A genuine warmth falls out of him, and it puts me momentarily at ease. The chatter fades, and Leia Organa Solo steps into my field of vision.

“Rey Niima. It is a pleasure to have you return to us.” She motions for us to take a seat at the floating disc table and I choose the one closest to me, willing myself not to stare directly at the source of my discomfort and distraction.

But he is hard to ignore.

It feels as if he has somehow tuned into a frequency that is my _own_ , and the presence is both alarming and paralyzing. I haven’t encountered anything like it before. It isn’t just impenetrable. It is powerful and unavoidable.

“Rey, you’ll know most of the people here today from your previous work with us, however I don’t think you’ve met Rose Tico, Bazine Netal,” she motions around the table as we exchange pleasantries, “...and Ben Solo.” Her hand opens in his direction and he finally meets my eyes.

He looks extremely unhappy to see me.

“It’s nice to meet you.” I say with a small smile, unable to stop the shiver that runs through me. I can practically feel the waves of his manufactured void pulsing towards me.

“Likewise.” He returns, and at his voice I fall into flash of a memory, harrowing red walls and...loneliness. It disappears in an instant. I press against the table, a small hitch in my breath is all that betrays me, but his glare positively pierces through my skin. I look away, and the heat of his eyes is unbearable.

 _I’m not trying to listen to you._ I snap to myself, and nearly jump in my seat when his voice cuts through my thoughts.

 _“Yes. You are.”_ My eyes snap to him and I wonder if maybe we have spoken aloud. His voice is so clear in my ears I can still hear it. But no one is reacting aside from a curious look in my direction, as if waiting for me to speak. I glance at Leia, who has a warm and expectant look on her face.

 _What did I miss here?_ I clear my throat and he sits back in his seat, arms crossed and eyes narrowed on me. _What is happening?_

“I’m so sorry, can you repeat that?” I ask, the distraction not quite clearing in my mind. Leia glances at Solo with contempt before returning to me.

“I was just mentioning to the team how skilled you are in Legilimency.” The eyes in the room dart to Solo. Looking for what, I am not sure. I swallow and retreat into myself, my mental shields hardening around me as I try to stop sensing him.

“Yes, uh. That’s right.” I nearly wince at how inelegant I’m being, but there is static between my ears.

 _Stop._ I think pointedly, and Solo stares back, unmoving. Baiting me.

_If you don’t, I’ll actually apply some effort and find out what’s so frightening about that red room of yours._

Like a rubber band he snaps out of my field of thought, and the pressure lifts. He shifts away, uncomfortable and furious. Serves him right.

Leia pinches the bridge of her nose and sends a long-suffering look at her son. She’s a practiced Occlumens. Not as specialized, but competent. I wonder if she could pick up on his childish antics?

 _“Childish?”_ His voice is loud in my head, and I jump. Leia curses under her breath and the room begins to volley between us, picking up on the fact that there is a silent conversation occurring around them.

“Everyone out.” Leia dismisses us with a wave of her hand, and I rise with a pit forming in my stomach.

“Not you,” she points to me and grabs Solo by the arm, “and most definitely not _you_.”

I sit back down and stare at the table in front of me. I can feel an alien pressure building from him. It is impossible to read. To see. But it is a dark energy that stings me with its ferocity. He’s much more powerful than I expected.

As everyone files out of the room, Leia casts a silencing spell around us and levels her eyes at his unmoving form.

“I think I raised you better than that.” She snips at him, and he shakes his head.

“You didn’t raise me at _all_.” His voice - it shatters something about his Occlumency. At the sound of it I can feel his resentment and the quickest flash of memories before he turns to me.

“And you. _You’re_ the girl they’ve been talking about?” His sneer lands on my watch as if he can hear the mechanical hands that are completely devoid of magic. My chest fills with ice and I try to clear my thoughts before I lose control of them.

“I’m not sure what’s happening,” I answer to Leia, trying to avoid the empty mass of darkness that erupts beside me. It feels like I can’t retreat far enough away from him.

“Ben. Knock it off.” She curses at him, and he stills in his seat. I crack my neck, wincing under the sensation of him.

“Not until she stops trying to _access_ me.”

“I’m not.” I spit back, face flushing. “I am _trying_ to block you out.” His eyes scan my face but he says nothing.

“I can feel you from here.” Leia says, bracing her hand in front of her as if she could interact with the animosity bubbling between us. She sounds almost intrigued, but more than anything, exhausted.

“I’m getting Luke. Don’t move.” She steps towards a small trinket on the table behind her - a portkey - and folds out of existence. I look at at him. His face is creased and dark, and I immediately regret coming here. I knew it would be a mistake.

“I promise, I’m not doing anything on purpose.” My voice is quiet, and I press my face into my hands. He doesn’t say anything, but I feel a shift in the magic around us, lessening in intensity. I think a whole moment passes before Leia reappears in a swirl of colour and mass with Luke in tow.

“Getting into trouble, kids?” He asks with a smile and Solo curses. “Hi Rey, how’ve you been?” He asks with affection and I open my mouth to answer when Solo interrupts.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Solo pushes away from the table and stands, turning his back on us.

“Don’t mind him, he’s a bit of a drama queen.” At Luke’s words I can feel Solo’s handle on himself falter, and a heavy presence bears down on me.

“Something strange is happening, Luke.” I rush to explain from behind a wall of discomfort. He appraises me and reaches out, his hand coming to rest on my arm. I don’t try to fight him from looking in at my experience or thoughts - what use would that have, anyways?

When he pulls away, he has a concerned look in his eyes.

He moves towards Solo, “Ben let me take a look -”

“Don’t you dare touch me.” Solo snarls, stepping back, further away from us. Something is coiling inside of me and the tension makes me clench.

“It hurts.” I announce to the room, and everyone stops to look at me. My eyes are filling with tears that don’t have a source within my own body. But it is the truth. I’m in _pain_. I can’t even tell if it is physical or emotional.

“Rey.” Luke steps towards me and I catch Solo’s horrified expression before I sink to my knees.

“Something is very wrong.” I flinch, clutching myself, trying to find a way to ease the horrible sensation of dread that fills me.

“Rey, talk to me, where does it hurt? I can’t feel it.” Luke follows me to the floor as I sob into the hard stone beneath me.

“Everywhere.” I gasp as he tries to pull me back up into a nearby chair. My head is reeling and I sway on my feet as I fall into the seat with a groan. There might be tears streaming down my face, but I can’t tell for sure. I can’t tell anything for sure. Except that it’s _him_.

“He’s doing something.” I suck in a breath, and my lungs burn. “He’s doing this to me.” I roll my shoulders back and hear him answer.

“I am not. Your Legilimens is out of control.” I feel myself lurch in his direction at the accusation.

“Prove it.” I wince and the world feels like nails on a chalkboard. He balks, and stares down at me. It is only now that I realize how large his frame is. Maybe he considers it. Maybe he doesn’t. He shakes his head and begins to walk away, the agony inside me stirring deeper with every step. I pull my wand from my robes and level it at him.

“Immobulus-”

“Protego.” His clipped voice reflects my spell and he turns to Leia, “I’m leaving.” He begins to take off down the hallway and I move after him.

“Rey, don’t.” I hear Luke’s voice but I can only focus on the tunnelling darkness that empties out of him into my mind. He slams out of the room, and I follow, ignoring the eyes of the other Aurors as I rush behind him.

He is trying to get somewhere he can disapparate. I can’t let him. Not until I figure out what’s happening.

As he rushes through the empty book room, Maz high above us, I finally reach him, grabbing his elbow to force him to stop. At the touch of my fingers against the thin fabric of his shirt everything is amplified. He swears, hunching over and my eyes squeeze shut from the pain of it until everything rushes up to the surface and in a blinding blast of light, the world stops around us.

The pain is gone. But it took everything with it.

It feels like I need to pop my ears, and I work my jaw, opening my eyes to see his own, dark and terrified, staring back at me. I can’t feel anything. I go to speak when suddenly the reprieve snaps back, and a thunderous pulse barrels through me, knocking me off my feet.

It is a kaleidoscope of image and sound that spins around me, and by the time I sit up I am nearly nauseous from the onslaught of emotion and memory. Luke and Leia rush into the room, the other Aurors slowly filling in behind. Solo sits up from the floor, head in his heads. For a second I feel totally normal. Completely myself.

But then I feel it.

I feel _him_. His thoughts, his physicality. It thrums beside me as if he has occupied a part of my consciousness. I can feel the pain around his right eye, remember the tea he had at breakfast, feel his jaw clench in front of me.  

I _hear_ him, even though it isn’t just words. It is the indescribable formation of function, drive, and desire that compels us through life. And it is overwhelming. My breath catches, the rolling information a total overload and impossible to fully decipher.

He’s bleeding, a large gash has sliced the side of his face, and I feel a pulse of fear through my body. This is bad.

 _“Look at me.”_ I hear his voice and turn to him, his eyes ablaze and face stricken. Meeting his stare, I know he has felt me the way I’ve felt him and I feel my veins shatter.

No. _No, no, no_.

His voice fills the room, the disbelief and fury echoing in my own ears.

“ _Stupid_ girl. What have you done?”

 

* * *

 

 

Grey's sharing corner: 

About the [MACUSA](https://www.pottermore.com/explore-the-story/macusa)

Ben Solo's school house: [The Horned Serpent](https://www.pottermore.com/explore-the-story/horned-serpent)

About [Occlumency](https://harrypotter.fandom.com/wiki/Occlumency)

About Rey being a [Legilimens](https://www.pottermore.com/explore-the-story/legilimens)

 


	2. Chapter 2

"Rey. Try to relax and breathe.”

Luke sits across from me in my hotel room. I breathe out slowly, focusing on dissociating myself from all thoughts outside of my own. I can’t feel Luke at all, so I know it is working, but I still feel _him_. It is a low undercurrent and it aches beneath my present thought.

“I still feel him.” I can’t keep the annoyance out of my voice  and Luke asses me with a passive expression.

“Well, this isn’t all bad news. It could be worse.”

“How?!” I ask with a groan.

“Could have been someone we couldn’t talk to.” Luke shrugs in his seat, a nonchalant smile creeping over his features.

“ _Can_ we talk to him?” I ask with narrowed eyes.

“Well, we can _try_.” He concedes with a smile. “Are you certain that you, or Ben, didn’t accidentally...mention a spell that could have interacted with something?”

“I’m sure,” I answer with slumping shoulders. We have gone over this so many times. “Unless he cast a non-verbal curse -” I wonder aloud.

“I wouldn’t call it a curse.” Luke interjects, his notepad filling with notes as we speak.

“What would you call it then?”

“An opportunity!” He exclaims as if it is obvious. “We have two Aurors with some sort of...link. Think about the ways this could help us within the MACUSA?” He leans back in his chair and I stare at his relaxed form with wide eyes.

“I don’t think I can _stay_.” I balk at the thought. Even with the physical distance between Solo and I, I feel like I am not far enough away from his unsettling force to relax.

“I don’t think leaving would change anything. And at least if you stay we can observe what’s happening and maybe find a solution to make things go back to the way they...were before.” He frowns a bit and I shake my head.

“There is no _before_. Something is wrong between us.” He nods and his pen scribbles faster.

“Not wrong. Just different.” He corrects, staring at me with appraising eyes. “Different is what we are used to.” I sigh and slump against the armrest. I can feel Solo buzzing behind his shields and I make an effort to pull away from it.

“Is he going to be able to stay professional? I don’t want to cause any more problems.” I ask even though I know Luke can’t answer for him.

“I certainly hope so.” Luke answers slowly and I stare out the window. The busy street below feels very far away.

I hope so too.

 

* * *

 

“I mean, it looked _wild_.” Finn’s eyes are wide and his voice is low.

“It is the _absolute_ worst thing that could have happened.” I shake my head and he laughs.

“I just can’t imagine it...what is it like?” He asks, glancing around us.

“It is impossible to explain. But it feels like we have a walkie-talkie that is always on.” I grimace, knowing that Finn will get the reference; he’s a half-muggle.

“So are you guys, like...talking?”

“No, not at all. I think we are both ignoring it as much as possible.” At the mention of Solo I feel him flex on the other side of myself as if he knows he is being talked about. Maybe he does.

“I was hoping for some good gossip.” Finn laughs and I can’t help but join him, although something worries at the corner of my mind. I can’t tell if it is him or me. But I focus on Solo when I reply.

“I think the only way this will work is if we are each other's secret keepers.” As soon as the words leave my mouth I feel his presence emerge in my senses with more striking clarity. Finn makes a noise of disapproval.

“No need to go out of your way to protect the world from knowing what an insufferable asshole Solo is. We already know.” The half-smile on my face is hollow. Everyone has secrets. It doesn’t occur to Finn that it would be _me_ that wants Solo’s silence.

“Well that's a relief.” I smile through my discomfort. I try to move past the sinking feeling in my chest and focus on neutralizing the appearance of worry on my face. It might be too late. Solo might already know everything there is to know about me and I’d be none the wiser.

At that, he enters the room and a flush of uncertainty floods my system. I swallow and keep my eyes fixed on anything but him. The proximity burns the barrier between us and begs for release. I ignore it.

His face is scarred. I can feel the faint line that runs across his eye on my own face and I blink through my surprise. A permanent mark from magic is _never_ a good sign.

The other Aurors fill the room and do the worst possible job of pretending they aren’t gawking at Solo or I. I try to chat quietly with Finn to give me something else to focus on, and I keep the world at bay with a furious effort in shielding myself from hearing anything but my own thoughts.

Leia nearly glides into the room, a no-nonsense expression on her face. As she takes her seat at the table she wastes no time diving into the case at hand.

“Let’s try this again, shall we?”

 

* * *

 

By the time I’m alone again it’s after midnight. I scan my hotel card over the doorknob and shuffle into the room.  

I’m absolutely exhausted, but my mind is reeling.

I can still feel him - the crackle of his energy is disruptive and potent. It feels like an itch I can’t scratch and it is harder to ignore without the distractions of the world around me. Suddenly the room feels too quiet. Too dark.

I turn on the TV and try to get comfortable, focusing on my breath but little else. After an hour of late night TV I curse, pinching the bridge of my nose and sitting upright. I don’t want to be awake anymore.

In an act of restlessness, I pull my wand over from the night stand and press the tip to my temple.

“Somnum.”

I feel myself relax a fraction of a second before the enchanted blackout of sleep takes over my body.

 

*

 

I am standing in front of the bay, the cold air from the water chills me to the core and I look around with lazy curiosity. I’ve been here before.

I’m _dreaming_ , I realize with loose awareness.

There’s no one around. There never is. This town becomes a ghost land during the colder months, and I kick at the sand without direction. In the distance I can see a smudge of black against the pale blues and beige of the beach. It causes me to jolt forward with a fright.

I’m dreaming and he’s _here_. I’ve had this dream before, but his presence is new.

I stay rooted in place. He approaches like a skipping record. Appearing closer and further away as if time and space itself isn’t sure where he is. After a beat he lands in front of me, his dark eyes scanning me with caution. He is overdressed for the beach, the multiple dark layers of fabric pulling on the strings of envy within me because of the relentless wind. My gauzy sweater flutters around me and I feel a darkness fall over me.

I know how this dream ends.

“Why am I here?” He asks, studying me intently, curious and apprehensive.

“I don’t know.” I answer honestly, staring out at the water. He follows my line of sight, his disposition is relaxed and he seems...calm. “You might not actually be here.” I add abruptly, and he turns to me.

“I think I really am.” He answers as if the fact surprises him. I sigh, and feel the beach begin to change around me, the ground starting to crack at our feet. Here we go.

“What’s happening?” He asks, and I step away from him.

“Something inevitable.” I answer, a feeling of loss and regret sours in my mouth. I can almost feel the alarm rise within his senses and I wonder if I should warn him.

“Where are we?” He asks, and the urgency in his voice catches me off guard.

“Morecambe.” I answer as the world begins to fold upwards and the water rises to an impossible height around us, the ground crumbling beneath our feet.

“I hope you aren’t really here, for your sake.” A small smile flashes over my features before the water crests and falls over us, knocking me off of my feet and into the relentless flood of freezing water.

I’m pulled into the depths, my eyes squeezed shut, as I struggle to try to get up to the surface. The air burns in my lungs as I kick upwards, but I know I won’t make it. I never do.

I press uselessly upwards until the pain in my chest becomes unbearable.

I can’t breathe.

It hurts so acutely that when I drag in the ice cold water into my lungs it feels like a relief.

 

*

 

I wake with a jolt, breathing hard in the dark hotel room. I sit up and feel for him, his fluttering electricity riding my wave of fright until it fades to a low thrum of unrest.

“Lumos.” I whisper, voice shaking. I wrap my arms around myself and stare at the room as if it holds the answer. It’s been awhile since I’ve had that particular dream - or nightmare, really.

Groaning, I fall back against the pillows. It’s hard not to focus on the thread that belongs to him. _Sorry Solo._

I glance at the watch on my bedside table. It’s just after two in the morning. I rub my eyes and extinguish the light of the room, plunging myself back into darkness.

This time when I sleep I don’t dream.

 

* * *

 

Grey's sharing corner:

See [Morecambe](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Morecambe)

Learn about [secret keepers](https://harrypotter.fandom.com/wiki/Secret_Keeper)

 


	3. Chapter 3

The constant rattle of Solo’s presence in my mind is distracting today.

I am making the rounds at a muggle museum, and everything is louder than normal. The purpose of my visit is to _hear_ , and so I am more open than usual, which of course means _he_ is louder as well.

There has been recent intelligence that members of the First Order have been targeting muggles in Washington - government workers, politicians, and lobbyists to influence muggle law in their favour. This museum was specifically cited as a recruitment hot spot and I am trying to feel out the crowd for any potential threats.

I saunter into the collection of modern art on display, taking my time and hovering around each group of people I pass. As I stare at the large, abstract piece in front of me, I feel a sudden heat at my back. I turn and scan the room but see nothing.

I don’t know how I know, but he’s here. I can _feel_ him.

There’s no real thought that enters my head, only an exclamation point and a wave of uncertainty as my mind spins. What is it going to be, Rey? Fight, flight or freeze?

_Fight._

I slip my hand into the deep pockets of my skirt, gripping my wand and turning around the room with calculating eyes. Where is he?

As if on cue, his frame fills my eye-line and he heads straight for me, hands up and open in a nondescript motion of surrender. He comes to stand in front of me and I feel him so clearly it is hard to think past. He’s expectant, nervous, unbalanced.

“I need to talk to you.” His voice is harsh and unquestionable. I don’t loosen my grip on my wand, but I shrug off his intensity.

“Then talk.” I begin walking slowly around the perimeter of the gallery and he falls into step beside me. He runs a hand through his hair. His muggle attire matches everything else about him. Black, black, black. His dress shirt is rolled up on his forearms and I purge my mind of all thoughts, except the intricate pattern of trees on the canvas ahead.

“What is the significance of Morecambe?” He jumps in without preamble. I laugh at his nerve.

“Next question.” I slow in front of the painted branches and he comes to a stop beside me.

There is something contradictory happening under his dark mop of hair but he must be working overtime to block out his actual thoughts. All I can feel is duality.

“I don’t believe you did this on purpose,” he offers, as if that was the _only_ explanation of our predicament.

“How generous of you.” My voice is cold, and and he refocuses on me.

“Don’t you want to understand what’s happening?” His tone is genuine with disbelief. “And...why?” He glances around the room, assessing, deciphering.

I remember seeing his grades from Ilvermorny, and I’m sure he considers himself an intellectual. I feel myself bristle a little at that. I am not avoiding this because I lack the capacity to understand it. I want to know too. But not at the cost of my privacy.

I glance at him from the corner of my eye.

“We both have a lot at stake,” I whisper. “We won’t be able to undo what happens.” I stare ahead at the shades of green and he shifts beside me, releasing the hold he had on his thoughts _just_ so.  

I can tell without trying that he knows. That he _agrees_. But he doesn’t care. I know what he is going to say before he speaks next.

“I think the risk is worth the reward.” His voice is low. His American accent coats his words with harshness and authority.

He’s stuck on this, I can tell. He’s too curious. He sees this as a question mark. Like a puzzle to be solved. He wants to figure this out, figure me out. Only one of those things is going to happen, though.

“You’ve certainly switched gears since our meet and greet,” I mutter, moving on to the next painting. He trails behind me as a question rises to the top of my thoughts. “How did you find me?” I ask with a pointed look.

He meets my eyes. “I can feel you so clearly. More clearly than anything else.” The honesty behind his words sends my self-preservation into overdrive.

“How clearly?” I wince, a wall of fear growing in front of my very eyes. I press everything out of my mind and try to keep my darkest thoughts from revealing themselves to him in the middle of the blasted art gallery.

He looks down at me briefly, before turning his attention to the painting ahead. “Quite clearly.” I feel my stomach drop and my chest seize. I can’t do this. It’s already a mistake. I should have left the moment this happened.

“We can make an unbreakable vow,” he interrupts my thoughts, and I can feel his desperation, “you can say that I insisted. That I refused to work with you without one.” I can feel a note of self-loathing carrying over from him and I chance a look at his dark profile. He’s right about one thing. Eventually the other Aurors will know, and of course they will talk. Doubt clouds my thoughts.

He’s too skilled at being deceptive. I _know_ this. And I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him.

“I am not trying to deceive you.” He pulls me to a less populated corner behind a sculpture. “I will let you see. If you can _promise_ me in return that you’ll consider my request.” I meet his eyes and search for whatever it is I think I’ll find. I come up empty. Maybe once he lets me take a look into _his_ thoughts he will change his mind about this whole thing.

“Alright,” I agree tentatively.

“You’re ready?” he asks and I nearly laugh in his face. He sure thinks highly of himself. I see his mouth press into a line and I shake my head. _This isn’t my first rodeo, Solo._

“Yes, I’m ready.”

At the memory of his impossibly powerful Occlumency, I reach out for his wrist. Not trusting that I will be able to see through his deflection without the physical connection, I press my hand into his skin and nearly jump from the shock of his flesh on mine.

He relaxes his mind, I can feel it - like a sigh - and suddenly I feel a rush of him. It is loud and overwhelming and heavy. After a second, his thoughts clear and everything is much more organized than I’m used to. It is also, far darker.

 _“I just need to understand.”_ His voice echoes between us and he lets me press past his present thoughts and slip into a deeper part of him. I try to find that red room, but it is nowhere to be found.

“You’re still hiding from me,” I whisper and I feel his skin tense beneath my fingers.

 _“I’m trying.”_ His response appears truthful, so I push through. After a beat I can feel him relax further, and I am flooded with emotion. Curiosity, mostly. But also, sincerity.

 _“There are no loopholes with unbreakable vows. Whatever you’re afraid of, it dies with me.”_ I let his voice float through me. Threaded in between his words is something that makes me ache with sadness. It’s so familiar I nearly breeze right past it.

 _Loneliness_.  

Suddenly, I am bumped into from behind, and I knock into his chest. The connection falters from our mutual distraction.

“Oh, sorry dear, I didn’t see you there.” An older woman fixes her glasses and Solo offers up a pleasant smile as I collect myself.

“It's quite alright,” he answers the woman, and I am _immediately_ derailed by the sound of his voice - just like I was when we first met. His gaze snaps to me and I feel knocked over by the intensity of it.

“Oh,” I hear myself whisper as my vision is flooded with red. The pain I felt from our first encounter blooms over my body and I feel wave after wave of increasingly harmful emotions.

Abandonment. Isolation. Fear. Anger. _Snoke._

“Is everything alright, dear?” The woman asks, but I’m blinded with Solo’s memories and I clutch my stomach weakly.

“She’s fine, just too much coffee.” The sound of him speaking aloud again blurs the barrier between us further, and I balk under the oppressive weight of him. The duality I felt before is coming into focus. Solo’s baseline is tumultuous and coloured with unrest. It’s exhausting and I’ve only experienced it for a few seconds. The newness of this, of me, surges forward with something lighter, but I can’t hold on to the feeling long enough to understand it.

I feel an unbearable swell of self-hatred and I pull back from him, the overwhelming ache radiating out through my fingertips. A litany of moments pass through me too quickly to understand, but all of them leave him, and now me, feeling the same: worthless, alone, undeserving. Lost.

Solo isn’t a “black hole” as Poe had so eloquently put it. He’s an entire cosmos. Exploding with so much awareness and raw emotion that I feel emotionless in comparison.  

“I’m okay, thank you.” I smile weakly to the woman and she nods, sending a distrustful glance at Solo. I pull back as much as I can and I feel him withdrawal as well, which mostly ends the awful feeling of dread within my chest. But not completely.  

I glance up at his eyes. I realize now that they might be the only part of him he can’t conceal.

“I trust that’s enough for you.” He presses his hands into his pockets and regards me with a casual look. It’s almost like a magic trick, now that I know what’s shattering underneath the steady veneer of his controlled appearance.

“It _is_ a magic trick,” he answers and his lip quirks. I look away. I need to work on shielding myself from him, for our mutual sanity.

“So, do we have a deal?” he asks. Maybe his curiosity is rubbing off on me. _There are no loopholes with unbreakable vows._ I repeat his reassurance over in my mind.

“Yes,” I agree hesitantly, “we have a deal.”

_Please don’t let this be a mistake._

 

* * *

 

Grey's sharing corner:

[Unbreakable vows](https://harrypotter.fandom.com/wiki/Unbreakable_Vow)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, let me know :) 
> 
> Thank you to my beta (as of chapter 3), [LoveofEscapism. ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveofEscapism/)You can also follow her on Tumblr [here.](http://loveofescapism.tumblr.com/)
> 
> You can follow me on Tumblr [here.](https://grey-orchids.tumblr.com/)


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